


Becoming

by sisyphuster



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: M/M, Piss kink, and much more as I add to the story, anti-Semitism, patrick's refrigerator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26299801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisyphuster/pseuds/sisyphuster
Summary: Where does Stan go after his bar mitzvah mic drop? Somewhere you'd never expect from the boy you'd never expect a bar mitzvah mic drop from.
Relationships: Patrick Hockstetter/Stanley Uris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Becoming

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written since college (we don't talk about the bandom days, lol). I'm excited to get to know more people on this side of the fandom. Hit me up on Twitter @ [simpsisyphuster.](https://twitter.com/simpsisyphuster/)

Stan fled the synagogue with no direct sense of where he was headed. His mind was a tangle of guilt and anxiety nestled together with the cold clarity of the righteous. He knew wherever his footsteps led him would be the right place. 

That place ended up being the town dump. It felt appropriate for Stan to be there; a fussy boy in his fussy grey suit and Tallit, coming to the mess of all messes after making such a wreck of his Bar Mitzvah. 

He should have been worried about the mess. The hot summer stench, the buzzing flies, the scavenging animals. Pennywise. But Stan knew the clown couldn't touch him right then because he'd never been so free of fear in his life. It should have been a shame to have spent that euphoric state in such a derelict place, but each unpleasant sight and smell almost seemed to make it feel more perfect. 

But he was tired. The junk yard was quite a distance from where he'd started and he'd moved swiftly, draped in heavy cloth and heavier expectations. He needed to rest and enjoy the clarity he'd earned, so he slid down to lean against one of the dump's many rusted out old refrigerators. He closed his eyes to soak it in, and even paid little mind to the shuffling noises he heard nearby. The aforementioned scavenging animals were not the sort to fear. 

Or, maybe they were. 

"You look wet," he heard Patrick Hockstetter say. Stan fluttered his eyelashes open to gaze up on the lanky boy now gawking down at him. He was looking down on Stan with a sun limned curtain of dark hair. "I've never seen your hair like that. All oil slick like one of those baby ducks in the sad news stories." He laughed, sounding almost wholesome, so uncomplicated in the joy he took from sadism. 

"It's sweat," Stan replied, dully. "It's hot outside," he added, tersely. 

"Yeah, maybe you shouldn't be wearing the flamer hat and scarf then," Patrick said, flicking and knocking askew Stan's yarmulke. 

Stan didn't even flinch, which intrigued and unsettled Patrick. That made Patrick angry, and he became more biting than playful in telling Stan, "fucking move your ass, pansy." He kicked a cloud of dirt all over Stan's prone form. 

"I was here first," Stan calmly replied.

Patrick laughed again, told him, "well suit yourself, but that's my designated pissing spot, so I hope you enjoy marinating in it." 

Stan's face was still stone, stonier still from the grey dust that was settling over him from Patrick's little storm. "Well," Stan replied. "I guess I already am, so it's too fucking late." 

Patrick was taken aback and excited in equal measure. This new Stanley Uris was an exciting new game with unpredictable rules, and Patrick delighted in a novel experience. "When did you finally grow balls, Jew boy?" he said, stepping forward menacingly, almost overlapping and bracketing Stan's body. 

"Well," Stan huffed out with a laugh, surprising both of them, "today was my Bar Mitzvah, which means I'm a man now." 

Patrick scoffed. "You don't look like a man to me."

Stan met his eyes in challenge. "And how would you know? What does a man look like to you? Because if it's Henry Bowers, then you must be dumber than you look." 

Patrick did not take that well. He reached out a big spindly hand and grabbed Stan by his hair, displacing the yarmulke til it fell bottom side up on Stan's stretched out lap. "Okay, little man. You wanna keep sitting in my pissing spot then I can show you up close and personal what a real man looks like." He pushed Stan's head into the hard edge of the refrigerator, and passed his other hand over the tightening front of his jeans. "I think I'll aim right into that little hat of yours. It's all nice and bowl shaped for me, very accommodating." 

Stan finally tried to extricate himself, but Patrick tightened his grip and nudged his knee against Stan's shoulder to pin him to the fridge. "You can decide then." Patrick began to remove himself from his trousers with his free hand. " It's coming out one way or another. You want it on the little hat, or on your pretty little face?"

Stan's choice should have been obvious, but even after everything he'd done today he couldn't bear to see his faith degraded by someone like Patrick Hockstetter. So Stan took the yarmulke from his lap and jammed it the inner pocket of his jacket. Seemingly having made his choice Stan looked up to Patrick defiantly, and waited. 

*******


End file.
